Hang a Shining Star
by BroadwayBaggins
Summary: Each year, the Crawley family hosts a charity event to benefit the local hospital. This year Sybil had taken over the organization of the event, opening the house to the public for an Edwardian-era Christmas tea. It's bound to be a rousing success...if she can get the house ready in time. Modern AU. Written for scathach124 on tumblr for this year's Secret Santa exchange!


_**Author's Note: This is a Secret Santa fic for the lovely scatchach124 on tumblr! I hope you enjoy it, my dear! And to all my wonderful readers, Merry Christmas!**_

* * *

"A little to the right."

"Like that?"

"No, my right. No…yes. Perfect. Right there. Now up a little higher…little more…"

"Sybil?"

"Does that look straight to you?"

"Sybil…"

"I'm not sure if that's straight. Hang on. Let me go and find Mary. Maybe she can..."

"Sybil, love, do you want to come up here and do this yourself?"

Although Tom had a smile on his face as he turned around from his perch atop the ladder to look down at her, Sybil could tell her boyfriend was getting a bit frustrated with her. He certainly wouldn't be the first one in her family to feel that way today. Sybil sighed, looking down, and Tom seemed to relent. "Hang on. Let me just climb down and we can look at this together with a fresh pair of eyes."

"Wait, not yet. The minute you moved, it shifted," Sybil said quickly. "See? It's all crooked now. Try moving it up in the opposite direction… yeah, like that…a little more…"

"Like this?" Tom asked, doing as he was told. He carefully took his hands away from the mistletoe that he was attempting to hang in the doorway, staying still as a statue in case the offending plant dared to move again. "I've got my eye on you," Sybil heard him mutter. She wasn't quite sure if he was just humoring her or if he was as frustrated with the mistletoe as Sybil herself was.

"You must think I'm completely mad," Sybil said softly, shaking her head with a sigh.

She glanced up once again to see that Tom had turned slightly, still poised at the top of the ladder as he looked down to meet her eyes. When he spoke, his tone was gentle, full of understanding. "Not at all, Sybil. I know how much today means to you."

Every year, the Crawley family put on a charity event to benefit the local hospital. It was a tradition dating back over a century, one that always promised to be the social event of the season. It usually took the form of a gala or elaborate dinner, sometimes a charity auction, and once, at Edith's suggestion, even a holiday baking competition inspired by _The Great British Bake-Off_. But this year, the Crawley family was attempting something entirely new, and Sybil was determined that it go off without a hitch. If, of course, she could get everything ready on time.

It had been her idea, the idea to open up the house to the public (for a not-so-modest fee, of course—it _was_ a charity event for a good cause, after all) for a special Edwardian-era Christmas tea. The year 2015 marked the hospital's 115th anniversary, and the year also coincided with the decision in 1915 to open up the hospital to soldiers wounded at the front in the First World War. Sybil had wanted this year's charity event to look towards the hospital's past as well as its future, and given the popularity of period dramas such as _Mr. Selfridge_ and _The Crimson Field_ , Sybil thought that people might be excited to get a chance to experience a piece of history firsthand. The guests would be treated to authentic Edwardian cuisine (prepared lovingly by Mrs. Patmore and her small army of helpers in the kitchen), the house would be decorated from top to bottom with authentic decorations, and tours of the house would be offered as well to interested parties. Guests would also get to enjoy the Crawley family dressed in authentic period costume as they mingled among them, gave tours, and maybe even joined in on some of the festivities themselves. To Sybil, it was one of the best ideas she'd ever come up with, but to say that it was a hard sell trying to get her family to agree to her plan would have been the understatement of the century. Sybil's grandmother in particular had fought tooth and nail against it, saying that Downton Abbey had survived centuries without ever once being open to the public, but Violet Crawley had finally been outvoted in the end.

The entire month of December and much of November had been devoted to research, making sure everyone had the right costumes and that the decorations were authentic and pleasing to the eye. Because it was Sybil's idea, she was allowed to take the reins on much of the project, staying up late with her research and making Tom joke around with her about "losing his girlfriend to another time." Mary had offered to give Sybil a hand with much of the preparation, but by then Sybil considered the entire event to be "her baby," her brainchild, and she wanted to do much of the work herself. Both Mary and Cora had done their best to convince Sybil otherwise—both of them had much more experience with organizing the charity drive than she did—but Sybil had been insistent, and her family had finally relented, allowing her to take control and simply doing what they were told in the days and weeks leading up to the tea.

Now that the day had finally arrived, though, and the time that the guests were to arrive loomed closer and closer, Sybil rather felt as if she had been thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim.

Most of the decorations were already up, thankfully. The massive fifteen-foot Christmas tree in the entrance hall had been brought in the day before and was now being carefully decorated by Edith, Isobel, and Robert (with occasional "helpful" scathing remarks from Violet as she watched them at work). Smaller Christmas trees—Cora's domain—stood in the dining room, sitting room, and library, where the guests would be taking their tea. Fragrant evergreen garlands had been draped along the railings of the grand staircase, holly centerpieces were on every table, and everywhere one looked they were surrounded by the colors of the season—green and red, silver or gold. The entire house had been transformed into a magical Christmas wonderland, awaiting the guests that would be arriving far too soon for Sybil's liking. And everything had to be absolutely perfect by then. This had been Sybil's idea, and the last thing she wanted was for something to go wrong and make her family regret agreeing to it in the first place.

"Sybil?" Tom asked abruptly, startling Sybil from her reverie. "You still with me?"

"What? Yeah. I heard you. Well, thank you for that. At least someone around here doesn't think I've completely lost my mind," Sybil replied wryly. "Why the hell did I insist on being in charge again?" she asked, more to herself than to him, wringing her hands as she watched Tom straighten the mistletoe for what had to be the sixth time. "Why did I insist on being such a control freak?"

"You're not a control freak," Tom said automatically. "In fact, I happen to find these little freakouts of yours rather adorable."

"Don't make me knock that ladder out from under you, Branson."

He gave a chuckle, and Sybil bit her lip to hide a smile even though he was high above her and couldn't see. "As you wish, m'lady."

Now Sybil did laugh for real, and Tom grinned as he began his descent down the ladder. He joined her on the floor, crossing his arms over his chest—he hadn't yet changed into his costume for the event, and Sybil allowed herself a quick peek at his muscular arms clad in a Henley with the sleeves rolled up—as he considered the mistletoe with a critical eye.

"It looks fine to me," Tom said after a moment. "Looks straight and centered. Not that the guests are going to be coming around with a ruler to check."

Sybil couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Tom…"

"But if you're really worried…then I think there's only one way to know for sure."

Sybil's brow furrowed, looking between him and the mistletoe with confusion. "What do you mean?"

Before she knew it, Tom had gently taken hold of her waist and walked her forward until they were perfectly centered beneath the mistletoe. Sybil hardly had time to look up and realize what was about to happen before her boyfriend's lips were on hers, his arms around her waist pulling her close. He tasted like peppermint—she'd have to scold him later for stealing the candies from the bowls that were available on every table—and she let out a little sigh that disappeared into his mouth as he cradled her against him. Her arms came to wrap around his neck automatically, and for just a few minutes she let herself forget about the decorations, the costumes, the mile-long to-do list she still had to do before the guests started to arrive in a few hours time. Tom finally broke the kiss and smiled down at her, his eyes kind and understanding, his earlier annoyance apparently gone for the moment. "Seems to be working perfectly to me."

"Oh, yes. Although, it probably wouldn't hurt to check one last time…" Sybil said with a grin, looking up at him with her arms still around his neck.

"I agree completely. We want everything to be perfect, after all. These people are paying good money to be here, and the last thing we want is to put up faulty mistletoe."

"I think we should check it one last time. Just to be really sure," Sybil whispered, grinning against his lips as she kissed Tom again.

"Figures. Get a room, you two!" an amused voice called from the opposite doorway, and the couple broke apart with an identical pair of guilty grins. Matthew stood with his arms crossed as he looked in on them, his head tilted to the side like a puppy, looking absolutely tickled to have caught them in the act.

"Don't you have work to do?" Sybil asked pointedly, and Matthew grinned. She stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm sure Mary could use a hand with stringing the popcorn…"

"Mary is finished stringing the popcorn, and is still feeling insulted that that's literally the only thing you gave to her to do," a pointed voice said from behind Matthew, and Sybil blushed. Mary stood behind her husband, already dressed in her Edwardian clothing for later—a deep burgundy dress that showed the faintest hint of her growing pregnant stomach—her hands on her hips as she glared at her little sister. One string of popcorn was draped around her neck like a scarf, and Tom bit his lip to hide a smile. Mary's scowl deepened, and Sybil nudged Tom with her elbow.

"You finished that quick," she told Mary brightly, a forced smile on her face, her mind going a mile a minute as she tried to come up with another job she could give Mary to do. Maybe their mother needed some help with the smaller Christmas trees, or Mary could be put to work making paper chains to hang form the bookshelves in the library…

"The dog could have strung that popcorn together. Really, Sybil, you're acting ridiculous. I can help. I can help in the kitchen with the food, or decorate the tree with Edith, or even help hang things with you and Tom. I'm going crazy over here. I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"I'm sure Sybil is just worried about you," Matthew cut in quickly, saving Sybil before she had to come up with a response. "None of us want you to strain yourself, or fall, darling…"

Mary's eyebrows arched in a look that told everyone in the room that she now knew _exactly_ who had been the one to suggest that Sybil give Mary that particular task, and crossed the room towards her sister. "Well, if that's the case, I appreciate _Sybil's_ concern, but I am _barely_ pregnant, and boring me to death isn't good for me or the baby. Please, Sybil. I'm asking you to let me work with _Edith_. That alone should let you know I'm desperate."

"Fa la la la la, la la la la," Tom sang in a deadpan voice, and Sybil snorted.

"You can go help with the main tree if you want, Mary, or see if Mama needs any help with the smaller ones. And if the kitchen is beckoning to you that strongly, I'm sure Mrs. Patmore could use a taste-tester." Mary smiled, and Sybil knew that her sister was tempted to take her up on the offer.

"Speaking of the big tree, I snuck a peek on the way over here, Sybil," Matthew cut in. "It looks lovely."

"You don't think anyone will mind that it's up before Christmas Eve, do you? That's when they would have traditionally decorated it in the 1910s. I just couldn't bear not to have any tree at all…"

"So you got five, for good measure," Matthew quipped, ducking out of the way as Mary swatted him lightly on the arm.

"Sybil, darling, look at me." Mary's voice was gentle, but a command all the same. "Nobody is going to know that except you. I can guarantee it."

"You're probably right," Sybil admitted reluctantly.

"I know you're nervous about this, but trust me, everything's going to be just fine. People are going to be talking about this event for years."

"Thanks," Sybil said softly, smiling up at Mary. "Your costume looks beautiful on you, by the way."

Mary smiled, doing a little twirl with her hand on her tiny baby bump. "I'm just glad it fits. I was a bit worried I'd wind up looking like a stuffed goose. I'm a bit bigger than when you had the measurements taken."

"You look beautiful, darling," Matthew said sweetly, leaning down to kiss his wife on the lips softly. "And so festive."

"Sybil, everything looks lovely in here. You should be proud of yourself."

Sybil gave a weak smile. "Let's hold off on the praise until afterwards, shall we? There's still so much to be done."

"Well, this room looks about finished. Shall we go give them a hand with the big tree, all four of us? Many hands make light work and all that."

Matthew stared at her. "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

Mary gave him another little shove, and he laughed as both Crawley sisters gave him identical looks of exasperation. "Come on, Tom," he called over his shoulder as the girls started to lead him away. "Let's make ourselves useful."

Tom glanced at Matthew and raised an eyebrow. "Race you to the entrance hall?"

"Don't you dare slip on the floors! I need you for later! Tom!" Sybil cried out after them, but they were already gone, racing away like a pair of ten-year-olds. Mary chuckled and linked arms with Sybil as they walked.

"Don't you worry about them. They know better than to get into any real trouble."

* * *

The tree in the entrance hall was exquisite, towering over their heads in an expanse of gold and silver tinsel, colorful glass balls, and Christmas lights (as accurate as Sybil could find) waiting to be illuminated once the entire tree was done. Matthew proclaimed that it looked like something "straight out of Harry Potter," which Sybil considered to be the highest of compliments, and the four of them eagerly got to work, laughing like children as they hung ornaments and helped string Mary's popcorn garlands onto the trees. Even Mary and Edith had put aside their usual squabbles for the day, and Sybil was grateful for that. Although all of them had protested in their own way at first—the idea was too "out there", too unusual, too risky and expensive for their taste and they should go with what they knew was tried and true—her entire family seemed to have pulled together for her to make sure the event was as perfect as it could possibly be. When the tree was ready, the entire family gathered for the big reveal as Robert plugged the lights in, illuminating the entire tree. Cora gasped and clapped her hands together, Tom wrapped his arm around Sybil and drew her to his side to place a kiss on her temple, Robert beamed and even Violet seemed won over for the moment. Sybil allowed herself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief. The guests had yet to arrive, but in her mind, the tea had passed its first test—it had won over her family.

"Sybil, darling, it looks _beautiful_ ," Cora gushed. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Well done, Sybil! I admit, I was worried about such a large tree—there's a reason we go for the smaller ones these days, you know—but it looks lovely, my girl," Robert declared, and Matthew, Mary, and Edith broke into applause.

"Thank you, everyone, but I'm afraid we don't have a whole lot of time to celebrate. They're going to be setting up the food soon, and that means it's our cue to go on and get into costume. I've printed out directions for the right order to put on all the pieces, but come knock on my door if you have any problems, all right?"

"It's just a suit, right?" Sybil heard Matthew whisper to Mary as she turned to go up the stairs. "How hard can it be?"

Mary chuckled softly. "Oh darling, you have no idea."

* * *

"Sybil, does this look right to you?" Tom called out a few minutes later. Sybil glanced out the half-open bathroom door, catching a glimpse of Tom smoothing down his evergreen-colored sleeves. "How the bloody hell did they get dressed with all these damn _buttons_?" he demanded softly.

"If you'd agreed to wear white tie, you wouldn't be having these problems," Sybil called out cheekily, reaching around to unclasp her bra so she could start to lace herself into her own Edwardian outfit.

"I thought it would be easier than the penguin suit. Besides, you can't have all of us dressed as posh aristocrats. That doesn't paint an accurate picture of the period at all. Who do you think ran grand old houses like these? It wasn't the blokes in white tie, I can tell you that for sure."

"I feel like we've had this conversation before."

"You should have dressed you or your sisters up as a housemaid, for a little variety."

"Something tells me you'll like this better."

"Is that so? Let me see." Tom turned around, intent on catching a glimpse of Sybil's outfit, but she slammed the door before he could see her. "Spoilsport," he called through the door, and she could almost hear the pout in his voice.

"I asked Mary and Edith if they wanted to be maids and they said no. Poor Anna and Gwen were the only ones who agreed. They'll be here a little later—they couldn't get off work in time, but they'll be arriving in costume just before the guests. I told them their dresses might be a bit more comfortable than some of ours."

"Maybe I'll hang out with them today, then. Us downstairs folk have to stick together, while the rest of you lot parade around in the uniform of an oppressive class."

"Socialist," Sybil shouted through the door.

"You better believe it!" Tom fired back, and Sybil grinned as she stepped into her costume, facing the mirror so she could make sure that she was wearing it right.

"Sybil? Are you almost done? I really don't know if I'm wearing this bloody jacket right."

"I'm sure it's fine, babe." Sybil was beginning to see why having a ladies maid to help dress you had been necessary in those days.

"Sybil…"

"Fine. Just a second." Carefully, Sybil cracked open the door to her en-suite bathroom, angling her body so that Tom could only see her head and not the costume that she was trying so hard to keep a secret. "Let me see."

When he stepped into view, Sybil's eyes widened. She had had Tom go in to try on the jacket once before it was finished, to make sure it fit well in the shoulders and wrists, but she hadn't quite been able to imagine what the finished product might look like on him. It looked… _good_. Better than good, actually. The green chauffeur's uniform with its brass buttons and high boots fit him like a glove, and Sybil's eyes swept over his form appreciatively. "Wow. You look…"

"Like a kid playing dress-up?"

"I was going to say like a proper chauffeur. It looks really good, Tom."

"I didn't mess up the buttons or anything?"

"Nope. Tuck your trouser leg into your boot just a little neater and you'll be perfect. It looks amazing, Tom. Really." She gazed at him for perhaps a bit longer than was necessary, licking her lips once without meaning to. He really did look _very_ good. So good that for a moment she wondered if he might be persuaded to keep the costume on once all the guests had left…

"Don't you still have to get ready?" Tom asked suddenly, making Sybil blush and cease her staring. He smirked at her. "I know I'm a distraction, but I'm eager to see whatever you're hiding from me in there."

"You _are_ a distraction. They'll be here soon. Just a minute," Sybil grinned before ducking back behind the door, closing it firmly behind her. She spent the next few minutes fussing with her costume, making sure it was draped just right against her skin, that all the laces and buttons were properly fastened and the headband was set just right against her hairline. She smiled at herself in the mirror, a little laugh bubbling out of her mouth at the sight of the finished look. It was perfect, exactly as she'd imagined it.

"Okay, I'm ready!" she called out, opening the door.

The moment Tom set eyes on her, his face lit up in a grin, taking in the sight of the blue gauzy harem-style pants, the embroidered bodice with its matching headband, the high-heeled shoes peeking out below the trousers tapered legs. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she had to admit that she was showing off for him just a little bit. Tom let out a low whistle, and Sybil beamed. She twirled slowly in a circle, letting him take in the full effect of her "scandalous" costume.

"You look fantastic," Tom managed to say.

"You like it?" Sybil asked with a grin, twirling again. "I saw a similar getup in some magazine archives of the time period. I'm sure it would have made some matron in 1915 gasp and clutch their pearls…"

"Well, I think you look stunning," Tom said softly, coming closer and wrapping his arms around her waist once again to pull her close. "Those matrons don't know what they're talking about. I happen to love the free-spirited, scandalous rebel I've got right here."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. Tell me, what would happen if the chauffeur were to run off with the Earl's daughter?"

Sybil giggled. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Distracting me."

"Good. Maybe that's my plan. To distract you."

"It had better not be."

"And what if it is? How is m'lady planning to—"

They both jumped as a knock sounded at the door, and Sybil reached up to straighten her headband. "Yeah? Come in!"

"Mama wants us all downstairs in five minutes," Edith called out. "There's still a few last-minute finishing touches to be done."

Sybil smiled at the door. "Don't I know it. Be right there!"

With one final look in the mirror, she turned to her boyfriend. "Come on, Branson," she trilled. If he was going to be taking his role as "chauffeur" seriously, then so was she. "Make yourself useful. Much to be done."

He smirked at her. "Beggin' your pardon, m'lady," he said with an exaggerated bow. "Lead the way."

Oh, the two of them were enjoying this far too much.

* * *

The rest of Sybil's family had already gathered downstairs by the time Tom and Sybil showed up, already dressed in their costumes—Matthew and Robert in the red jackets of their military dress uniforms, much more festive than black tie suits or olive drab army uniforms, Violet in a more old-fashioned gown of deep purple that suited her as if she truly dressed like that every day of her life, Cora in a gauzy crimson dress trimmed in gold and Edith and Isobel sporting green—and waiting for the stragglers to make their way downstairs. Cora beamed and held out a hand as Sybil approached. "You look beautiful, darling."

"Would they have allowed an outfit like that back then?" Mary asked curiously.

"It would have raised a few eyebrows, but yes, I think they would. What are you all gathered for? We need to be ready to greet the guests when they arrive."

"In a minute. I was just looking at the tree and I realized we forgot something very, very important."

"We did?" Sybil demanded, her heart pounding in her chest. "What? What did we forget?"

"Robert…" Cora smiled and turned to her husband. Robert stepped forward, drawing something out of his pocket and holding it out to Sybil.

A little delicate ballerina lay on his palm, standing on her toes, smiling up at Sybil. Her brow furrowed. "My favorite ornament?" she asked, looking up at her father. The ballerina ornament had been in Sybil's possession ever since she was six, when she first saw _The Nutcracker_ ballet and fell in love with the story. "You took it from the tree upstairs?"

"Just temporarily," Robert assured her. "Your mother and I thought it might be nice to hang it on the big tree tonight. We thought it might bring you luck."

Sybil's eyes shone as she smiled gratefully at her parents. "Thank you."

"Go on, hang it on the tree."

Sybil took the ornament, but turned and beckoned to Tom. "Let's hang it together."

In an instant Tom was at her side, placing his hand over hers as they reached up to place the little ballerina in her place of honor on the tree. Her family clapped once it was in place, and Sybil and Tom allowed themselves a quick peck on the lips just as Mrs. Patmore appeared in the doorway, untying her apron from around her waist.

"The food's all ready, Sybil, and I see the first cars starting to come up the drive," she said warmly. "I'd better to go and get meself changed, in case anyone wants to thank the chef…" She gave Sybil a wink, and she laughed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. I guess that's our cue." She turned to face the others, grinning from ear to ear.

 _You've got this, Sybil._

"All right, everyone!" Sybil called out, clapping her hands together. "Showtime!"

* * *

The First Inaugural Downton Abbey Edwardian Christmas Tea was deemed, by all, to be a rousing success. As Sybil had predicted, the chance to tour such a grand house was one that few could pass up, and everyone was delighted by the food, the decorations, the costumes, and the chance to take a step into the past. It seemed every time Sybil turned around, someone was there to compliment her on the success of the event. The day seemed to pass in a blur, with hands to shake and pictures to pose for and tours to give, and by the end of it, she was exhausted but smiling. A record amount of money had been raised for the hospital, and already people were talking about what the Crawleys could possibly do to top this for next year.

It was everything that Sybil could have imagined and more.

She was in the middle of talking to Tony Foyle and his family when out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother and grandmother stand up. Cora raised a glass, tapping her fork against it to silence the room. Sybil stared at her, confused as to what was happening.

"Your attention, please," Violet called out mildly as the guests hushed.

Cora smiled and cleared her throat, raising her glass in Sybil's direction. Her family had scattered throughout the room, and Sybil caught Mary's eye as she saw her coming back from leading the last tour of the evening. Sybil raised her eyebrows in a silent question, and Mary only shrugged.

"I'd like to thank all of you for joining us tonight," Cora began. "I think we can all agree that tonight has surpassed all our hopes for the event, and I'd like to thank you all for your continued support for the hospital." There was polite applause, and Cora paused before she continued. "I'd also like to thank the incredibly talented Beryl Patmore and her catering team for the amazing food that we've all been enjoying all evening."

There was more applause, and Mrs. Patmore, leaning up against the staircase with a cup of tea, raised her arm in a wave. Cora smiled at her before turning back to the crowd. "And I'd like to thank our talented volunteers, who worked very hard to make this event special this year. Make sure to thank them on your way out—they'll be the ones dressed like a bunch of time travelers." There was polite laughter, and Sybil caught Tom's eye and bit her lip to keep from laughing herself. "But most of all, there is someone very special I would like to thank—my daughter Sybil. What you're seeing before you now is the product of months of hard work, planning, and research. Sybil poured her heart into making tonight special, and I think I speak for everyone when I say that she exceeded our expectations. We couldn't have done any of this without her. Sybil, my darling, congratulations."

"Here, here!" Robert cried, raising his own glass as he got to his feet.

Violet followed suit. "To Sybil," she said, her voice seeming to echo throughout the room.

"To Sybil!"

The crowd applauded again, louder, and suddenly Edith was at Sybil's side, taking hold of her arm and bringing her to stand beside her parents. The clapping continued as Sybil smiled and blushed, standing with her family and basking in the glow of a job well done. As the conversation started to flow again, she felt a tap at her elbow, and turned to see Tom standing there, arms behind his back, smiling at her.

"Now that things are winding down a bit…is there any chance a humble chauffeur can get a dance from the Earl's daughter?"

A small space had been cleared for dancing, although only a handful of couples, including Robert and Cora, had been brave enough to attempt it. All day a restored gramophone had been playing songs carefully selected by Sybil, a mix of well-known Christmas favorites as well as music that would have been popular in the 1910s. As Sybil took Tom's arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, Edith changed the record, and the opening notes of "If You Were the Only Girl in the World" filled the room.

"Tonight was perfect, Sybil," Tom said softly to her as they began to twirl gently across the floor. "It couldn't have gone better. I'm so proud of you."

"We raised money for the hospital. That's the important thing. But…oh, Tom. I'm so glad it went well."

"Was it everything you imagined it would be?"

Sybil smiled as Tom spun her around again, stealing a quick glance upward. "Not quite everything…"

Tom looked confused as Sybil pointed above their heads. He looked up, a slow smile spreading over his face as he caught sight of another sprig of mistletoe, artfully placed hours earlier.

" _Now_ it's perfect," Sybil said as she brought her lips to Tom's.

 _The End! Merry Christmas!_


End file.
